Ditching the Diagram
by music51
Summary: Michi is growing up fast...can Shinjuku help her again? Focuses primarily on Shinjuku's relationship with Michi and secondarily on his relationship with Tocho.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first-ever fic, so please be kind! …and the ONLY reason I even started writing it is that I'm desperate for more MT fic, so if you're a fan, please write some! We need more!

Author's note: This story takes place six months after the events in Episode 3. The club setting was inspired by btamamura's "Not Quite As He Seems". :)

Acknowledgement and disclaimer: There are three small but important bits that were taken or modified from the English subtitles of the anime. I own nothing, so please don't sue me!

Shinjuku sighed. Here he was, once again, in his favorite club, but could he relax and enjoy himself? Oh, no—apparently that was asking too much. He was too preoccupied with watching out for drink-spikers, minors, criminals, drug-pushers, perverts, and even the occasional would-be rapist. He loved clubbing after work, and wanted nothing more than to release the tensions that always built up after a long, hard day of flirting and crisis intervention, but he almost invariably found himself putting out fires even when off-duty. He wasn't a workaholic like Tocho—far from it—but he was still a train station, and a station always did what had to be done. It was his purpose in life to protect humans, especially women, and if that meant sacrificing his free time, well, so be it. He selfishly wished that Tocho were there so that he could shift the weight of accountability onto him, but wasn't that what he did on the Miracle Train anyway? Tocho was his leader, but also his rock. Shinjuku needed him and his unwavering sense of duty, leaned on him…perhaps a little too much, he reflected guiltily. It was Tocho's strength that allowed Shinjuku to be his carefree, casual self on the job, and they both knew it. But for all that, Shinjuku could always be counted on to shoulder the burden of leadership when the going got rough. At any rate, thinking about Tocho wasn't going to help him now. It was his territory and therefore his responsibility, even if it _was_ a Friday night…Shinjuku heaved another sigh and made his way through the crowd, keeping a watchful eye out. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks as his gaze penetrated a dark corner of the club.

There, sprawled out on a lounge sofa, wearing too much makeup and too little clothing, was Michi.

He rushed over to her and checked her pulse. "Michi! Michi!" he called into her ear. Slowly she roused—she seemed drunk, not drugged, he noted with relief—and fixed her heavy-lidded eyes on his. "Oh, it's you," she murmured, and then smiled as she rubbed her temple. "What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"

_Damn her flippant attitude_, cursed Shinjuku inwardly. _Where'd she pick it up_ _from, anyway? _"Michi," he said firmly, "I want you to tell me everything that happened tonight."

"What? Not much—it's been a pretty disappointing evening," she drawled as she sat up with his help. "I told my parents I'd be spending the night at a friend's house, and I came here instead."

"You shouldn't have lied, Michi."

She shrugged. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Hey, you got a cigarette?"

"What? No, I don't, and if I did, do you really think I'd let you have it? Since when did you start smoking?"

"I haven't started yet—that's why I asked, dummy!" she snapped. "This is so frustrating. I've been striking out all night."

"What do you mean, 'striking out'?" he asked, trying desperately to keep his voice even.

"I mean that nothing—_nothing_—has gone my way tonight. I was supposed to have a good time dancing, partying, trying new things…but the most I can say is that I got in here without a hitch. My friend said if I dressed sexy they'd let me right in, and she was right…but after that it all went downhill. It was still early, so I went to the bar—" here her unsteady arm pointed to the bathrooms "—and I'm no dummy, so I knew to keep an eye on my drink. I was gonna start slow with a beer, just test the waters, but that blue stuff looked so cool…tasted pretty good too….Well, I had a few, then I felt like I had to lie down. So I did. Here I am. What's new with you?"

"Michi," he said slowly and clearly, "I am going to take you to my apartment. You are going to sleep this off, and in the morning I will take you home. I'll spare you the lecture until you're in a better position to hear it. But trust me," he added under his breath, "you _will_ get one. Do you have any questions, Michi?" he said more audibly.

"Yeah! You got a cigarette?"

Shinjuku buried his face in his hands. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

Luckily Shinjuku managed to get her to his place without any real mishaps. He had given her a breathalyzer (which he always carried), and, as he'd suspected, she wasn't that intoxicated—she'd just overdone it as a first-time drinker. He'd also performed a few basic tests—checked her eyes, heart rate, etc.—looked over her clothes, and asked some judiciously-worded questions, all of which convinced him that she'd been neither drugged nor victimized in any way. Her story made sense: he'd spotted her shortly after he entered the club, so she must indeed have arrived early. Given the time it would have taken for her to order and drink her cocktails and for the alcohol to take effect, she couldn't have been stretched out for more than half an hour. Still, he knew that was enough time to invite trouble, and he was grateful to have found her when he did.

He did not want to think about what might have happened to her if he hadn't.

"_I'll be watching over you_."

He swore silently. Fine job he'd done of watching over her so far.

After standing over her to make sure she downed the liter of coconut water and smidgen of umeboshi he'd insisted on, he'd given her an oversized t-shirt to change into and left her sound asleep in his bed. He then sat dejectedly on his living room couch—no point in stretching out, he was too upset to sleep—and ruminated on the whole thing.

_Why, Michi, why? It's not like you at all. What were you looking for? You're no thrill-seeker and you're no idiot. You knew the risks—what drove you to take them?_

He simply couldn't shake the feeling that it was all his fault.

_If I'd only_… he began, twisting and turning the night's events in his mind as if he could unravel them by sheer willpower. _I should have… What if I… Maybe I could…_ Suddenly he was startled out of his broodings by a knock on the door.

It was Tocho.

"Hajime saw your light on and gave me a call," he explained as he hugged his second-in-command. "He guessed something was wrong."

Shinjuku slumped wearily against his leader's strong shoulders and poured out the whole story. "I should have been watching her. No, I should have done more than watch her—I should have talked to her—no, I should have listened to whatever she had to say—"

"Easy now, that's more than enough to start with," said Tocho gently. "You've had a long day. Why don't we sit down first. Then you can tell me the rest."

Shinjuku laughed. "Hai, bosu." He made a mental note to thank his little brother.

Tocho's presence in times of trouble always had a reassuring effect on the blond station, and he already felt calmer as he spoke his fears aloud. "It's not just that I feel guilty for not guarding her more carefully," he explained. "It's that I'm afraid I'm responsible for the whole thing. I'm a bad influence. She never used to hang out in Shinjuku until she met me. And…" his voice trailed off.

"…And?" prompted Tocho softly.

Shinjuku closed his eyes and exhaled. "I know—I _know_—there's something the matter with her. I know that girl. She's too much like me. She's independent and arrogant and flippant and headstrong…and sensitive and intelligent. That's a dangerous combination. It wasn't just some childish prank she pulled tonight. The girl's got a good head on her shoulders. That's what worries me," he murmured. "It was almost as if she was _trying_ to find trouble. And I don't know why."

"No, you don't at the moment, so it'll be a rough night for you. But you'll find out in the morning—I'm sure of it. That child trusts you like she trusts no one else. Believe me, you'll be able to help her." Tocho smiled. "You really love her, don't you?"

"I do. If I didn't know better I'd swear she was my little sister. She's got the Shinjuku blood in her veins." He grinned. "Remember when she threw her purse in my face?"

"How could I forget! I only wish my camera phone had been poised and ready."

Shinjuku groaned. "Don't worry. I have a strong feeling there'll be a repeat performance in the morning."


	3. Chapter 3

When Tocho finally left after another hour or so spent comforting his friend, Shinjuku felt relieved enough to nap for a while. He was so exhausted that his sleep was mercifully dreamless, and when the sunlight woke him he felt at least somewhat prepared to face the challenges he knew the day would bring. There was silence from his bedroom, and he was sure Michi wouldn't stir anytime soon…which was just as well, he figured, as it would give him some much-needed time to think. At any rate, breakfast had to be attended to. He made his way to the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients for miso soup. He enjoyed cooking—was quite good at it, actually, though not as accomplished as his brother Reiji—and somehow he found it cleared his mind. While his hands worked at a moderate pace, his thoughts sped on ahead….

_Better not say a word until after breakfast. Just small talk while we eat…if I play my cards right, I'll get her to drop some clues…then gradually steer the conversation to what's bothering her…subtly, of course…before she knows it, she'll be telling me everything…oops, damn that slippery ladle...Come on, Rintaro, you're an old pro at this, right? No one knows the workings of the female mind like you do…absolutely nothing to worry about…it'll be a piece of cake…hey, why is this glass so sweaty?...of course, one wrong move and I'll get a purse in the face…or worse, she'll clam up and I'll never get it out of her…maybe she'll never trust me again—_

"—DAMN!" he swore through clenched teeth as the soup pot came crashing down, spilling its carefully-nurtured contents all over the kitchen floor. For a moment he stood staring at it as if he could somehow mentally reverse the action, like hitting a rewind button. But one of Shinjuku's virtues was that he was quick to accept things and move on. He glanced at the clock and smiled.

_I'll have time to clean this up_ and _make a manju run._

He was about to set the table when he heard her moving around in the bedroom. _Perfect timing_, he thought. _Things always go your way in the end, don't they, Rintaro?_ He chuckled and couldn't resist a self-satisfied sweep of fingers through his hair, Shinjuku that he was. He looked down at the picture-perfect arrangement of manju and ocha. So far, so good. _ Now comes the hard part_, he reflected with a sigh.

"You're a little old to be sighing like that."

"What are you talking about—I'm sighing _because_ I'm old." He smiled and turned to face her.

She had rummaged around in his closet until she'd found something she could wear: sweatpants she'd rolled up and cinched tightly, another t-shirt, and an incongruous Italian silk tie which she fingered in response to his raised eyebrow. "Oh, this? Well, you see it's not often that I have guests over, so when I do, I like to dress up."

"That's very considerate of you."

She gave him a bow that was half-mocking and half-sincere. "One does what one can," she replied airily. Then she straightened and looked him full in the face. "Well, we'd better get it over with."

"What?"

"My lecture. You said I had one coming. Let's get it over with so we can both enjoy that delicious breakfast you've laid out."

He regarded her in silence for a full minute while she continued to stare at him with a strange mixture of patience and defiance. Finally he averted his gaze. "Michi," he began, gently but firmly, "you were too young to be at that club."

"What do you mean? You were there and you're even younger than I am."

Shinjuku didn't know whether to laugh or swear.

"I'm a _train station_, Michi."

To keep from screaming at her he reverted to the smooth tones of his ladykiller banter. "You should know better than to put yourself in harm's way, koneko-chan."

"And you should know better than to lecture me, Rin-chan," she countered with a wink.

Concern for her made him reckless. "Damn it, Michi, be serious!"

She turned tired, childlike eyes to him and smiled. "I'm always serious," she said quietly. "You of all people should know that."

Shinjuku sighed and smoothed his brow.

"You're right. Forgive me. I can't expect you to trust me if I don't trust you first." He turned to her and grinned. "So, Mi-chan, shall we sit down to a nice breakfast and just talk for a while?"

Michi threw her hands in the air. "Finally!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Mmm….Hanazono manju really are the best! And the tea is amazing, too."

"It should be—I learned from the master himself. Shiodome knows everything there is to know about tea. And green tea's great after a night on the town."

"Tell me about it," she groaned. "I'm never doing that again. Dumb thing to do in the first place. I'm lucky you found me when you did."

He reached out and rubbed her shoulder. "I'll be honest—my heart skipped a beat when I saw you lying there. If anything ever happened to you I'd never forgive myself," he murmured.

"Forgive…_yourself_? You're not responsible for me, Rin-chan," she chided gently.

"Yes I am. I said I'd watch over you and I meant it. I'm a station and you're my charge."

She stared into her teacup. "You know…it feels good to have someone care so much about me."

"I'm glad," he said softly. "But—your parents care about you too, don't they?"

"They do. But sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wonder if they just love me blindly because I'm their child, or if they love the real me with all my fears and flaws. They're such optimists and they never really _worry_ about anything—not like I do, anyway. Somehow I can't really talk to them about stuff."

"Have you tried?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't work. I've got a lot of things I think about…a lot of things I worry about, or even just wonder about. And whenever I talk to them, they always try to reassure me. But the thing is, I don't want to be _reassured_—what I really want is to be _understood_."

"I see what you mean. I was guilty of the same crime just now, wasn't I?"

"Yeah. You were talking to me like a parent, when what I really needed was a friend."

He took her hand. "I hope it's not too late for me to redeem myself. If you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."

She drew a deep breath. "I don't know exactly why I did what I did last night," she began. "But I think it has something to do with my general thoughts about life lately. Before I met you, I tried to plan my life down to the last detail. Looking back on it, I think it was because I was scared of life. I was scared then and I'm scared now, because I just don't understand what life is supposed to be about, and trust me, I've given it plenty of thought. I love my parents, but they live the most normal, boring lives I've ever seen. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks it's boring. Nobody around me seems to question these things. And it's not even that—what really bothers me is that I don't understand _why_ life is the way it is. I'm supposed to study hard, get a good education, get a good job, get married, have babies, get old and die. Just a few months ago, that was my plan. I was afraid of deviating from life's pattern. Now I'm equally scared to stick to it—and in the end, it's the same thing, I guess. I don't know what went through my head yesterday. All I can tell you is that for the first time in my life, I suddenly felt like I had to smash the pattern to bits, or it would strangle me."

Shinjuku watched her—could see the conflict in her as clearly as if it had been drawn with pen and ink—and words he himself had spoken not long ago flashed into his mind:

_Running along a set path. Caught inside the diagram's cage, you forget to ask yourselves who you are. Haven't you realized it's time for that to end?_

"You're just like me, Michi."

She looked up.

"Even though I'm a station—or maybe _because_ I'm a station, I don't know—I've felt the same things you feel. Did you know that I can't leave the Oedo Line?"

"I never really thought about it, but I guess that's the way it would be, now that you mention it," she said. "What would happen if you tried to step over the boundary? Would you—physically disintegrate or something?"

"I don't know, but I've asked myself that same question, and I've often been tempted to find the answer. I know it would be foolish—and irresponsible, too—just like you knew that what you did last night was foolish and irresponsible. But I can understand how you must have felt." He sighed. "You said you'd rather be understood than reassured, and that's just as well, because I wouldn't even know how to begin to reassure you. I don't really have any answers myself. All I can tell you is that no matter how much it sometimes disturbs me that I'm bound to an inscrutable diagram—or life's pattern, as you call it—there are two things that never fail to comfort me. One: the bond I share with my fellow stations, and the knowledge that I'm not alone; and two: the joy I get from human contact. Not just from helping people, but from knowing them and loving them." He looked into her eyes. "I love you, Michi, and I promise you I will always be your friend."

She leaned back in her chair and smiled. "You're the best friend I've ever had," she said shyly. "I'd like to be your friend too." Suddenly she laughed. "I guess I should start by apologizing for being so much trouble—oh, no!" She smacked her forehead. "Speaking of trouble, I just realized I'll have to tell my parents what happened. Ugh…and just when I was starting to feel better, too…."

"Don't worry, it won't be so bad. I'll go with you and explain my side of things, so they'll at least know that you were safe. Besides," he added with his trademark wink, "they're sure to go easy on you when they see you in the company of such a charming and gorgeous gentleman."

"You mean Hajime's coming too?"

"WHAT? How dare you! Just for that I'm taking the last manju!"

"Oh no you don't! Hey, look, it's a beautiful woman—"

"—Where?"

"—Over there—"

"Oh—_damn_, I can't believe I fell for that!"

Michi grinned. "Poor boy, you can have the last of the tea and then we'll be even. By the way, thanks for having me over. It's quite a sexy little love nest you've got here."

Shinjuku promptly choked on his tea, while Michi howled with laughter.

Author's note: Episode 3 is one of my favorites, and I think there's a very interesting dynamic between Shinjuku and Michi. She's the only human who really challenged him and forced him to drop his "koneko-chan" routine almost immediately. I think he was more open and honest with her than with anyone else, and the entire episode is peppered with reaction shots of Shinjuku that reveal his fondness for her. When Michi pushes him away in Higashi-shinjuku, there's a sad and vulnerable look that flashes across his face for a second and is quickly replaced by his usual façade. That split-second glimpse into his heart was the inspiration for this fic.


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